Okay, so here goes. This time, I am in Boston and I am taking it easy for the first time in a while. But before I talk about that, let’s go back to where I left off...

Having seen my oncologist at the end of November 2008, he decided that I needed to have an MRI scan on my spine as a Grade 3 Anaplastic Ependymoma Tumour is very likely to spread once it has come back. Of course, I hoped (as I always do) that it would be okay and show that my tumour had not spread, but deep down I knew it had. I had been having back ache for a few months, but had been putting it down to feeling tired from school and not being able to shake off a cold that had been lingering. The day I went for my results of the spinal scan I felt awful. I hadn’t slept the night before due to my sore back and I felt like I had a bad case of the flu. It’s difficult when I feel like this because 9 times out of 10 I do just have a cold or flu symptoms like everyone else, but there is always an underlying worry of how sick I felt back in 2005. I kept thinking the worst. What if it is coming back? But like I’ve said many times before, you can’t think like that otherwise I’d be at the hospital all the time!

On this occasion it was a bit of both. I knew I had the flu and my tumour had spread to my lower spine. Being told what I already knew in my heart was not as easy as you might think. Unlike any other time I have been given bad news, this time I just sobbed. Like you do when you’re little and you find it hard to catch your breath. I couldn’t stop crying and my fears were realised again. It wasn’t that I felt sorry for myself, I just kept thinking ‘Please don’t let this ‘thing’ start to take over me’. ‘Please don’t let it get out of control’. I needed to be in control and for a little while, in that doctor’s room, I lost it. And so did James and my family. We were all devastated.

My oncologist, Dr Glaser is a very straight talking man (must be something about me and all of these no nonsense doctors!). He is very kind and I know he will always do his up most to make me better. He kept saying to me ‘Do you know how serious this is?’ and we kept answering ‘Of course we do’. That conversation will stay in my mind forever. Dr Glaser talked to us about conventional radiotherapy and said that if we went for this option it was going to be tough. You always know when a doctor says that things are going to be hard, they really are. But for me, none of that mattered as long as they say they can make me better. Anything is worth that. No pain, no gain!

Dr Glaser said that if I followed the conventional radiotherapy route in the UK, they wanted to start treatment as soon as possible and that I would need to stay in hospital. Dr Glaser explained that conventional radiotherapy would shoot my bone marrow to pieces and I would potentially need blood transfusions. At the same meeting, my family and I also talked to Dr Glaser about the option of proton therapy and all the different hospitals around the world that offered it. Dr Glaser explained that our first step was for him to contact the doctors in Boston, as they are experts in brain and spine treatment. I was told that my case was so complicated that any other hospital would not have the experience or expertise to cope with my treatment and that they would turn me down for this reason alone. Turn me down? What did that mean? As a family, this was something we had never even considered. Surely that wasn’t even an option. We had thought that as long as we could raise the funds, I would be able to have proton therapy wherever we chose. This was my first lesson. Money doesn’t always talk!

Unfortunately, the decision to give me proton therapy treatment and help save my life was not left up to us to decide. The opportunity of survival was out of my control. Whether or not I would be accepted for treatment at Boston would be decided by the medical profession. The wind was knocked out of my sail and we all prayed for a positive response. What if Boston wouldn’t accept me? What would we do? Well, that didn’t even seem worth thinking about! The one good thing I had on my side was that Dr Glaser had said that Boston may find my case ‘interesting’ and that this may sway the doctors to accept me for treatment. I really would have liked to have heard that they could cure me, but if ‘interesting’ was all I had, then ‘interesting’ was what I was happy to be. We left Charing Cross hospital in a daze that day, all quietly praying that our luck was about to change for the better – and there was no celebratory drink in the local pub this time.

It was now that we decided to set up a website to raise awareness about my story and to tell people about proton therapy. I felt that this was an important thing for me to do. I also wanted to use the website as a tool to help us find the money to pay for my treatment. It wasn’t going to be cheap and we needed to get to work straight away. We sat down as a family and had an ‘official’ Huggins board meeting. We discussed how much money we all had to put in, how much more we had to make and more importantly, how we were going to reach our target. I suppose you could say that we had a very lucky start. James, my parents and Katrina and her fiancé, Dan had already started saving for our forthcoming weddings and decided that this money would now go into the fund. We had a firm starting point and a momentum to build on. We decided early on that there was no way we could ask family, friends, neighbours, work colleagues, the local community and the British public for donations if we were not willing to sacrifice our own cash. And so ‘Melissa’s Fighting Fund’ was born! This website has been worth its weight in gold. We have had an unbelievable response to it and I would like to say a big thank you to everyone that has worked so hard to put it together. I would also like to say a big thank you to everyone that has logged on and donated some money. Thank you so very much.

I took the next 2 days off work, mainly to recover from this flu that I couldn’t shake off, but also to get my head round my latest diagnosis. I am so pleased I did, as this is when the media attention really picked up. I needed all the energy I could muster if I was going to go public with my story. I had to be ready, have my wits about me and fight. This attention wasn’t going to last for long and I needed to grab it with both hands and enjoy my 5 minutes of fame. I needed to make the most of the opportunity I had been given. I had to get my story across and raise awareness of my plight. I felt it was important to explain why I was doing all of this and how we do not have specialised proton therapy machines in the UK. I was lucky enough to know about the options available for treatment abroad, but others may not. I wanted to give other people battling cancer the chance to look into proton therapy too. Now that the tumour had spread to my spine, we needed the money for this treatment more than ever and I needed all the help I could get to raise the funds.

James and I were picked up at 5.30am on that Tuesday. I had planned to be ready so I could try and calm myself down and talk myself through the interview in the car, but in true Melissa style, I was nowhere near ready when we were collected. Whoops. I had to make myself look presentable in the car as we sped into London to the studios. The interview questions went out of the window and I told myself that I was going to have to wing it (and I am no good at doing that!). We arrived at the studio and sat in the ‘green room’. James helped himself to pastries and tea and I sat there glued to the TV screen thinking ‘Oh my goodness, that’s going to be me soon. Help!’ I have not felt that nervous in a long time. I can safely say that Ofsted and even brain surgery are hard pushed to beat a live TV interview. I was just so worried that my mind would go blank and I would start to waffle. Looking back, I don’t know what on earth I was worrying about. Poor James couldn’t get a word in and neither could Fiona Phillips. Sorry!  The trouble is, I knew I only had a few minutes to get my point across and I needed to make the most of it. I was feeling quite emotional that morning and could have cried at any time. Mainly because I knew why I was there and that I needed help. However, I had decided that I would not let myself cry. That would be wasted airtime and I did not want people feeling sorry for me. That is the last thing I ever want. I am a bit of a martyr like that and if people feel sorry for me then it means I’m sick. Silly really because I am! But I so desperately want to be well again and normal that I decided tears on the GMTV sofa was not a good look.

The actual interview went really well. Fiona Phillips was lovely and made me feel completely at ease, so it’s her I have to thank. If I had felt awkward, I would most definitely have forgotten what to say. With this live interview under my belt, I knew I could cope with any others. On the way home, our ‘phones didn’t stop ringing. Proud family and other media interest. From here, we were able to do a London Tonight and Channel 5 TV interview, Daily Mail newspaper article, and lots of other local newspapers. Oh and I hope you picked up the Real People magazine and Cosmopolitan magazine this month too! I can honestly say that the support, well wishes and donations from these TV and newspaper/magazine interviews has been amazing. I want to take this opportunity to thank every single person who has thought of me and helped my fighting fund. Without you, we would not have raised the money I needed and I would not be receiving proton therapy now. I will never be able to thank you all personally. I will never be able to thank you all enough, but please rest assured, I am eternally grateful for the generous and kind hearts of you all.

I would also like to say a very special thank you to a little girl called Ruby Lyde. Ruby is a year 6 pupil from the school that I teach at. I did not know she had contacted GMTV for me until the night before I went to the studio. Nor did I know that Ruby was going to be on a video clip before I spoke. That was tough. Like I said, I was feeling very emotional that morning and to see Ruby made me feel like a very special teacher. You’ll be pleased to know that I retained my tears for the camera as I have learnt to detach myself from emotional situations. As horrible as it sounds, it is a must for me. I cannot keep crying. If I do, I will never stop and that is not how I want to fight. I have to stay strong, focused and determined to win.

Ruby - without you writing that email, I don’t know where I’d be today. You have helped me get to Boston for treatment so quickly. And more importantly, you have helped me raise awareness about proton therapy through the media. Something I never dreamt would happen. What a lovely person you are and my little star of course! Thank you sweetness.

In the background of all of this, my family and friends had also begun working tirelessly to raise the funds needed to get me to Boston. I had still not been accepted at this point, but if the call came, we needed to be ready with as much money as possible. I had decided that if I was to be turned down from Boston, then any money raised would have gone towards helping someone else who had been lucky enough to be accepted or maybe a charity that helps fund patients to receive treatment abroad. Either way, it would go towards a good cause and help someone like me.

I would also like to take this moment to say a big thank you to everyone for their support and encouragement during this difficult time. It is important for me to acknowledge the efforts that everyone has made with the fundraising activities they have planned and implemented over the last 3 months. There are too many events to mention one by one, but everyone has done an amazing job and raised lots of money. The first event to kick start our fundraising was a night at a bar called Abaya followed by numerous others. And they are still continuing today! Brilliant. That said, the one fundraising event that stands out in my mind is the Auction Dinner at Hazlewood Golf Club on 13 December 2008. People were fantastic with the items that they donated and we had some spectacular prizes to auction off. Holiday’s abroad, premier football games, sporting memorabilia, film premiers, concerts, day trips out and much more. To be honest, I’d have liked them all for myself, but that would have defeated the objective! As you can imagine, an event like this was a massive task and one that was new to us all. Team Melissa quickly got into action and began preparing and arranging a wonderful charity night. We knew this could be our one and only chance of making a big amount of money, so it had to be organised with precision. It was at this point that we began to realise that fundraising for a serious amount of money was like a full time job. It was tiring, hard work and time consuming, but if we could pull it all off, it was going to be one of the most worthwhile things any of us had ever done. And definitely a good thing to add to our CVs!

Our auction was a fantastic night. Everybody had pulled together to make it the best it could possibly be. The decorations looked lovely with pink balloons, table decorations, sweets and t-shirts. Everyone was here to support Melissa’s Fighting Fund and it was an overwhelming sight for me to see. James kept the momentum going all night and he was assisted by a very close family friend. It was a comical sight and one of my favourite photos is of me pretending to bash them with my pink boxing gloves. My friends also did a great job and became waitresses for the evening. They made sure that no one needed to leave their seats for anything and that the alcohol flowed to the tables with ease. Well done everybody!

Throughout the night, we kept a tally of what we thought we might have made and I was chuffed to discover that we had reached £7,000 before dinner. I thought that was unbelievable. I hoped we’d make the same after dinner and if we did, then we would have raised more than I first thought. No one could have prepared me for the final figure. When James read out the total at the end of the night, I put my head in my hands in sheer disbelief and then I cried. What a surprise! Wow! £50,000!!!! How could people be so generous? All that money to help little old me get the treatment I so desperately needed. For a while our target seemed so far away. I truly believed we’d get there, but not this quick. With this sum of money in the fund, on top of what we had already made from other events, we were over halfway there. I’m still lost for words today. This was just the beginning and we were doing so well. Amazing.

I wanted this money more than ever now. Two days before the auction dinner, I received the ‘phone call we had all been waiting for. Everything was starting to fall into place and our luck was starting to change. I was confident we could do this!

But before we move onto that, I must mention that most of the fundraising events on the website have been organised by James, Trina and my best friend, Lucy. They are my 3 musketeers. They have all worked so hard behind the scenes and have been the foundation of raising all this money. Without them, Melissa’s Fighting Fund would not be the success it is today and I want to take this opportunity to thank you from the bottom of my heart. I love you all.

Of course, there has been loads of effort from people who have organised their own personal and individual events. Some people don’t know me at all and I would like to say a big thank you to them too. To raise money for a person that you have never met is something special and I have promised that I will be just as generous to other people who need life saving treatment. Help those who help you. My second lesson in life.

Okay, so back to the dreaded ‘phone call. This came on Thursday 11 December 2008 and James called me during my lunch hour at school. He said he had been speaking to Charing Cross and that Dr Glaser had been trying to get hold of us. We knew he had an answer, but did we really want to know what it was? Please, please, please let me go to America was all I quietly said to myself every second of every day. For me, I had hope on my side that Boston would accept me, but there is always that doubt that they might not have agreed to treat me once they had reviewed my case. More than anything in the world, I didn’t want that moment of doubt to come true. James and I agreed that if Boston declined me and would not treat me, then he wouldn’t call me to tell me as there would have been no way I would have been able to concentrate and teach at school that afternoon. Two minutes later he called again. I remember being a little cross thinking ‘If the answer is no and you’re ringing me to tell me, then I am not going to be able to hold it together’. I answered the phone and waited. Typical James! Cool as a cucumber. He didn’t shout the answer down the ‘phone straight away. In fact, I can’t quite remember what he said, but it seemed like an eternity before he told me anything. They said ‘Yes’, he said. I didn’t know how I’d react, but I was very calm and I could literally feel the weight of so many weeks of worry slip from my shoulders. I was absolutely over the moon, but still very frightened to celebrate in case, by some cruel mistake, he had got the answer wrong. Again, it’s sad to say this, but I have learnt not to get my hopes up as they will often come crashing down around me and I get very upset and disappointed that a glimmer of hope has been snatched away from me. This was too important to let it crash. I rang my Mum and Dad. They cried and Trina just told me that she knew they would accept me and how pleased she was. I couldn’t help but keep imagining what it would have been like if that answer from Boston had been No. Now, instead of pleading, my thoughts turned to saying thank you, thank you, thank you every second of every day. I knew only too well how my life could have turned out. It would have been so different right now if that had been the case. Once the news and reality began to set in, our family slogan ‘Boston here we come’ was used through both sad and happy moments to keep us positive and remind us what we were striving so hard to achieve.

With the ‘go ahead’ from Boston, we now had to wait to get there. Part of me just wanted to jump on a plane and start treatment. This was the treatment that was hopefully going to help me survive and I wanted to start fighting this retched disease straight away. On the other hand, I knew that only 1 in 8 people were accepted for treatment in Boston and that made me feel like one of the luckiest people alive. Anything was worth the wait. I would wait for however long it took. I would be patient while the doctors decided my future and my treatment.

Actually, the timing of the wait was perfect for me as I had Christmas to keep me busy. Christmas is my most favourite time of the year. I absolutely love it and I never want it to end. Just call me Peter Pan! I had the best Christmas ever with my family and friends. It was really important for me to spend time with the people that I love the most and with people who, probably over the last few months, had watched from the sidelines as I ploughed myself into the media and work. As for it being a quiet, restful Christmas, I’m not too sure about that. I actually went back to school for a rest in January!  But that’s what it’s all about and I have reminded myself that I had lots of time to rest in Boston.

Christmas came and went very fast. As it does every year. Before I knew it, I was back at school. I think lots of people had expected me to be in America already or to be flying out very soon. Unfortunately, I still hadn’t heard back from the hospital. That was okay though. I understood that Drs needed a holiday too! The only information that we had received was that my Drs in America had decided on an 8-week treatment plan. This was to consist of 2 weeks planning for my treatment, then 4 weeks of whole cranial and spinal radiation and 2 weeks resection of my original tumour. Sounded like a good plan. We now just needed a date and we didn’t have to wait long for this. We received an email advising me that my treatment would start on 18 February 2009 and that I would need to be in Boston by 4 February 2009. Excellent. Boston here we come! And I was strangely excited, but nervous too. I informed my school and I felt happy knowing that I had time to make sure everything in my class was just right before I left the children to a supply teacher. This was not the case. Dr Glaser informed the Drs in Boston that my spine was causing me a few problems and that I needed to see them urgently. I had mentioned to Dr Glaser that my back was aching constantly and that the pains I was experiencing were becoming more frequent. It’s difficult to give the Drs a precise answer when they ask you how it feels. I don’t know how painful a tumour in the spine is meant to be. I don’t want to be dramatic, if what I feel is expected, but at the same time, I know how bad the pain became last time with my brain tumour and I really did not want to go through that again. We quickly received an email from my team in Boston to say that they wanted to see me as soon as possible to assess my spine. If it was okay and they decided that I could wait until the 18 February 2009, then I could return home and wait for proton treatment to begin as planned. But, if they were concerned about my tumours, they would try to bring my treatment forward or look for alternative treatment(s) to hold my symptoms at bay until proton therapy could commence.

So, on 13 January 2009, I flew out to Boston with James and my Mum and Dad. First Class courtesy of British Airways. What a great start! It was fantastic. I could get used to that! This is what we had waited so long for and we deserved to savour every moment as we climbed to 38,000ft and headed off across the pond. I was definitely on a high at the start of my trip. I almost couldn’t wait to get started. I wanted these tumours to know that I meant business and that I’d had enough of them. After all, it has been 3 months since my re-diagnosis and having these ‘masses’ inside me, at times, makes me shiver from head to toe.

The day after we arrived, I visited the hospital for the very first time. Massachusetts General Hospital. The place that would make me better. The place that would save my life. My first day at MGH consisted of numerous scans. I had 1 X-ray of the brain and 4 MRI scans. Nothing new to me, as I have these every year. Just a little longer and more thorough. It was important to have these scans so my new team of Drs could assess my case and choose the right treatment for me. With each scan, there is always a little worry of getting the results. Being told what they have found or reminded of what I have is never a nice experience, but one that is necessary and that is that. I often hope that the Drs will tell me this has all been a horrible mistake and they were wrong, but then that would mean my scans would have to be someone else’s. I can honestly say that however hard this is for me, I would never wish it on anyone and no one deserves this. It goes back to my old saying that everything happens for a reason and I truly believe that. There is a reason why I am poorly and maybe it is so I can fight it and hopefully one day, help other people.

We met with the Dr that would be responsible for my proton therapy treatment on 15 January 2009. You know how I said before that you can never be too sure of a situation, as it can come often come crashing down around you. Well, this was one of those days. Dr Shih told me that my treatment was not going to be easy and once ependymoma tumours come back, they are hard to cure. Statistically, this type of tumour very rarely comes back, but if it does, it is not an easy one to fight. We also found out at the same meeting that there was now a 3rd tumour at the top of my spine and some ‘spotting’ in another place. I thought 2 tumours were bad enough, but this wretched thing just keeps on multiplying! I guess you could say Dr Shih was my bearer of bad news. Not a job that I would want to do! However, not being someone to dwell on the ‘what ifs’, I focussed our discussion back to my treatment plans. I wanted to talk about what we could do rather than what we could not do. It doesn’t matter how hard you try to protect yourself in these type of situations. I was knocked back again. I lost a little of my confidence and fighting spirit in that split second, but I soon picked myself back up. What I did feel confident about though was the fact that Dr Shih was taking my notes to the proton board meeting later that day to discuss my case with other medical professionals such as surgeons, neuro oncologists and other proton Drs.

Before we left the room, I told Dr Shih that whatever treatment they were considering, I wanted it to be as aggressive as possible. I had come here to fight and if that meant being extremely poorly for a while, then so be it. Anything is worth it to make me better. I love my life and I will do whatever it takes to keep it. We went back to the apartment and waited for the ‘phone call from Dr Shih. Dr Shih called back later that evening and said they were looking into the possibility of an operation. Excellent! Of course I didn’t want to have brain and spinal surgery out of choice, but if they could reduce the size of the tumours, then that was a good thing. Right? Surgery was something that the Drs were not prepared to do in England and I was willing to do anything. But as it turned out, it wasn’t that simple. The Drs were not looking to reduce the tumours. They were concerned that the newest tumour they had found at the top of my spine was strangling my spinal cord. If I had proton therapy it would inflame my tumours and potentially squash my spinal cord. They needed to snip the tumour in order to relieve its grip from my spinal cord. Just when you think things can’t get any worse, they do. What is it with me? I started to feel that someone, somewhere was testing my human spirit. There are moments when I feel like I can’t take anymore, but I promise you these do not last for long and I’m back like a bad smell refusing to go away!

Our next appointment was with the neurosurgeon and neuro oncologists to discuss possible surgery. This meeting was much more positive and we talked about chemotherapy at the end of my proton therapy treatment. Again, I made it clear to the Drs that I felt that the best approach would be the most aggressive approach. For the Drs, it was not that straight forward. They explained that there was no statistical proof that chemotherapy had any effect on ependymomas. Typical! They said they would have to investigate this possibility further and that they would speak to a Dr in Texas who had researched ependymomas thoroughly. They explained to me that they didn’t see any point in putting me through chemotherapy if it wasn’t going to work. I understood that, but I wanted to say to them that I might be different, that maybe I am different and my tumours would respond to chemotherapy. But I will cross that bridge when we come to it after my proton therapy treatment has finished. It’s another avenue to think about at a later date. We also discussed pain management and they explained they would be in charge of any tablets that I needed to take during my treatment.

At this meeting, the neuro surgeon took another look at my MRI scans and decided that it wasn’t necessary to operate after all. He explained that the 3rd tumour wasn’t strangling my spinal cord as much as he had first thought and that it wasn’t too urgent to relieve it. This was good news. I decided to ask whilst we were there with the neuro team about the possibility of them operating solely on the basis of reducing each tumour. They said they would be happy to consider this, but would need to meet with the spinal surgeons to discuss the possibility. They stated that there was no point operating on one tumour without operating on any of the others. This is something I found hard to understand, but I think I get it now. In my opinion, surely the less of the tumour there is to zap, the better. I soon learnt that this was not the case. The surgeon explained that when they operate on the brain there is a chance that some cells will come loose and float in my spinal fluid before settling on other parts of my brain and spine. So, unless the Drs are confident that they can reduce the tumours significantly or reach them without damaging me, there is no point in surgery and removing them because I could end up worse off in the long term. The main aim for the Drs is to complete proton therapy as soon as possible before any more tumours appear or spread. We waited for over a week while the surgeons reviewed my case and deliberated whether or not to operate on me. There was obviously a lot to decide and waiting to hear from them was one of the hardest parts of being in Boston. It was like torture not knowing and as much as I wanted that operation, I prayed very hard that whatever decision they made, it was the best one for me in. Finally, Dr Carter called us back. The spinal surgeon was not willing to operate on me. He said that my health was too good and that there was a high chance they would physically damage me due to the positioning of my tumours. The spinal surgeon informed Dr Carter that he had tried to do many of these operations before and that they had not been a success. His words were ‘I will not do surgery on her’. His reasons were taken from experience and I respected that. We were advised that, if I underwent surgery, he would damage the nerves that control my bladder and bowel function. Of course I was utterly disappointed and upset, but at the same time, the decision had been made for me. There was nothing else they could do and I had to accept the Drs decision and their level of medical expertise. No brain surgery, no spinal surgery and potentially no chemotherapy. I felt like I was grasping onto very little hope and it was back to square one again. My family and I began to focus on proton therapy once again. After all, this is what we had come out here for and this was the best form of treatment for me.

So, here we are at the present day. What an update, what a whirlwind, what a few months. On 30 January 2009, I went to plan for my proton treatment. I have to say, the Drs out here have been marvellous and they take caring for their patients to the next level. They really do look after me. This appointment took about 3 hours. I was met by 4 lovely people (technicians, therapists and oncologists) and the whole process was quite labour intensive. Luckily, they were a very relaxed team and on my request, they took photos of me throughout the planning stages. I think they thought I was a ‘Barmy Brit’, but I thought it would give the people reading my website something to look at and understand what I am trying to get across.

Proton planning is very complicated, so let me try and explain what it was like. Firstly they made a mask of my face. They put pads on my chin, nose and forehead so the mask itself wouldn’t sit too close to my skin. Then they laid the mask over my face and it felt like a warm flannel. They moulded it round my face and then began to fan me. Luckily, I had my eyes shut with patches on, so I imagined I was on a beautiful beach in Thailand with a warm flannel on my face and a lovely person cooling me off with a fan. Note to self. Book our next holiday to Phuket! The mask that they made of my face was actually much smaller than I thought it would be and I was a little disappointed. Like a child, I wanted mine to be the biggest and best. After a few minutes, the mask cooled and they clamped it into place on the bed and then fiddled around with some measurements for a while. Don’t ask me what they were doing. I was more concerned that they had asked me to take my hair out and I was looking like a mad woman!

I had 3 on my head and 7 on my spine, all in different positions. The purpose of thee was to ensure that when I went into the CT scanner, the ball bearings would show up and the Drs could position the laser beams accurately, making sure my spine was straight. After approximately 2 hours, I was nearly finished, having been moved in and out of the CT scanner a million times. Each time I had my head or back moved by

Now all I have to do is sit back while the Drs busily plan what they have in store for me. My treatment is due to start on 9 February 2009, so by the time you read this, I will have probably had my first couple of sessions. I will keep you posted with how it all goes. Let’s hope I don’t leave it so long next time to update you. But, if I do, please excuse me as my Drs tell me that I will get very tired from all the proton therapy treatment.

So, there you go. The last 3 months of my life. I don’t have any more hospital visits until my treatment begins, so I have a chance to be me again, just for a little while longer. Plain old Melissa, not Melissa in hospital for life saving cancer treatment. I’m looking forward to being me, to being with my family as they visit, updating my website and of course, writing my thank you cards. I have no idea where I will start, but I promise to thank as many people as I can. There are some people that have donated to my fund that haven’t given their contact details. I want them to know that we received their donations and their kind words and although I won’t be able to thank them personally, I want them all to know that their generous gestures meant a lot to me and I am truly grateful for their encouragement. For each and every person that took the time to help me, I will take the time to say thank you back. I promise. That’s the least I can do.

xxx

Well, here we are at the end of December 2009 and I thought I said I wouldn’t leave my update for so long! Whoops. What happened there then? Always easier said than done! But I promise I have a valid reason. I have tried so many times to complete my update, but I wasn’t feeling great and I was so exhausted from the treatment that sleep was the only thing on my mind. At times the treatment was easier than I had anticipated and other times much harder, but we’ll talk about that a little later.

We arrived at the centre and were told how we would check in everyday. I didn’t have to wait long until they took me through to ‘the room’. It’s hard to explain what the actual room and machine was like, but I have pictures for you to see so you can decide how good I am at describing things! It was a bit like something from Star Wars. The room was very technical looking and the machine looks like a space ship. It was all very scary and very daunting.  Reality check. I was actually expected to lie on that thing!

I didn’t really take everything in on my first day. What I know about the room, the machine and the equipment is from weeks of being there and gradually building up my confidence to ask my team what certain things were used for and how they worked. I was way too nervous to do this straight away and besides, it would have taken forever to explain everything to me at once.

My team of 6 proton therapists consisted of Georgene, Allisha, Phil, Carmen, John and Hui. I spent everyday of my treatment with them. That was a really positive aspect of my treatment as it was great to get to know these people and build a relationship with them. I entrusted them with my life. It was really important for me to have that, especially on days when I wasn’t feeling too bright (not that I ever told them that) and when I started to lose my hair. They were just so kind. My head was extremely burnt from the amount of radiation I had been given and they were always so gentle. Any time someone came near my head to check I was lined up correctly on the machine, Georgene would remind them to be careful. As my hair fell out I could see out of the corner of my eye and they would remove pieces and take it away so I wouldn’t have to see it on the bed when I got up. Just little things like that made what I was going through a little bit easier. On some occasions I would be given a cushion and a heated blanket to keep me warm in the blistering Boston winter, but once the radiation kicked in I was hot enough thank you!

Right, so back to a day in the life of me and my proton therapy treatment. I had to lay on the bed on my front and my team would help position my face into the mask that they had created at my proton planning sessions. Then they started to line up my tattoos with the laser beams on the machine. This is the most complicated part of the treatment and the whole purpose of proton therapy. It was essential that they got this positioning accurate so they could ‘zap’ the diseased areas. There were days when positioning me a few millimetres this way and a few millimetres that way could take over half an hour to get right. The accuracy and precision was unbelievable. I then had to lie as still as I could for the 50 minute treatment that I would receive every day. My team of proton therapists were lovely and they would always ask if I was okay. They would apologise to me about the amount of time it took to get me in position and administer the treatment, but I didn’t mind. The whole time I was there I was so grateful. I wasn’t in any rush and I happily co-operated for as long as it took. I remember thanking God (as I did every session) that I had the opportunity to zap these tumours and get better. My team could take as long as they liked. Who was I to complain?

I didn’t really understand too much about anything in my first few sessions. I was definitely a true beginner. I wasn’t sure when I was being given the radiation or when my team were in the room with me. That was scary and I shed a few tears on that machine. I felt like a lost little girl as I lay there thinking ‘What’s happening now’? An hour later, that was it. I was done and dusted! Free to do whatever I wanted for the rest of the day. It was surreal to think that as I passed people in the street they had no idea that I was unwell and being treated for a brain and spine tumour – perfect! This was to be a part of my life for 33 days, so guess where me, James and my Mum and Dad headed to celebrate? Yep, you got it! We went straight to the local pub in Boston for a celebratory drink. We decided that we would go there every Friday after treatment to raise our glasses to another week of treatment and another step closer to getting better. What was there not to celebrate? Any excuse for some alcohol!

For the first few weeks of treatment you wouldn’t of known what I was going through. Apart from being a little more tired and waking up with a bad headache every morning, I didn’t feel too bad. Nothing a painkiller couldn’t fix! The only physical evidence was a radiation ‘strip’ that was forming down the entire length of my spine where the radiation was being administered. A high dose of this on a daily basis left my skin burnt and raw.

At the end of my 3rd week the inevitable happened. My hair began to fall out. Clump by clump!  I had been warned that this would happen so I was as prepared as I could be. I was told by my doctor not to shave my hair off because I might not lose that much, but the reality was, with radiation to the head, I would.

I remember my proton team telling me on Day 10 that I would lose all my hair by Day 15. After that session I spoke to my Mum and my sister, Trina and we all said ‘No, surely it won’t happen that quick’ as I still had all my hair. But unfortunately, after brushing my hair on a daily basis, the hairbrush would be full of more hair than normal. And then gradually, as I ran my hands through my ponytail it would come out at the ends. I was always in trouble with my family as they would say ‘Leave your hair alone’, but I couldn’t help myself! I kept gently tugging at it! Gradually, as my hair weakened from the radiation and I tugged at it even more, the clumps got bigger and bigger. I remember pulling on my ponytail during a consultation meeting with Dr Shih and being left with a massive clump in my hand. Whoops! I looked at it and thought ‘Great, I can’t put that in my handbag’ so I asked her if she had a bin. She looked at my handful and said ‘most patients do anything to preserve their hair and you’re putting yours in the bin’. Haha. Well, what was I supposed to do with it? My philosophy was - the quicker it fell out the quicker I could deal with it and the quicker I could get over being a baldy! 

I began to know when a section of my hair was going to fall out because my hair would become very greasy and then clump into a mass. I was finally getting dreads! Hehe. I would then have to try and untangle it and literally (in a ball shape) it would slide away from my head. Another clump out of the way and I was looking stranger by the day!

To be quite honest with you, losing my hair was never really an issue. I had far more important things to concentrate on. Now that I have finished all my treatment and my hair is starting to grow back I think ‘Please hurry up and get long again because I am running out of outfits to wear with my scarves’. Some of the silly things that go through your mind at times like this. Amazing huh!

Approximately half way through my treatment, my team had trouble getting me into position for my proton therapy. I don’t know why, but I was obviously being awkward! It was starting to take them nearly an hour to position me correctly and I then had 50 minutes of treatment on top of that. I just had to hold still for however long it took them to position me correctly. But on the second consecutive day of this happening they eventually told me to sit up. Georgene explained that for some reason they couldn’t get my position right and that this was essential to ensure that the proton beams were directed accurately at the tumours on my head and spine. Georgene also explained that they had taken the maximum number of X-rays they were allowed to take of me and that it was too long for me to lie still each time. They finally decided that they would have to do my re-planning again. I totally understood this as they were working to a very tight schedule and I was holding up other patients that needed to be treated.

As my proton therapists consulted my doctor I went back into the waiting room and explained to my Mum what was happening. Of course, she panicked at first and thought they would have to stop treatment for a while. But within minutes, one of the ‘planning’ team came to us and said they needed to re-plan me. For some reason, the position they had me in wasn’t working anymore so they had to change tactic and try another. That was fine by me. I went down to the planning room again and Georgene came with me so she could advise the planning team what she wanted done.

I had to have a much bigger mask made this time. Yeah, this was more like it! I was starting to look like Hannibal Lector and that’s exactly what I had anticipated in the beginning! For about an hour I went in and out of the CT scanner with my new mask on. With the mission complete and re-planning done, I was raring to go with my new and improved mask. No tattoos this time thank goodness, just drips and laser beams. Now I looked the part. I was lucky only to be put back by one treatment and this was made up at the end so it didn’t cause any major delay to my treatment.

Finally I came to the end of the most intense treatment I would ever experience. I had even been given ‘extra boosts’ of radiation to the centre of the disease for double reassurance. I had done it and was proud of myself for tolerating even the ‘extra boosts’ so well. What a 7-weeks it had been. But do you know what? I wouldn’t change it for the world. This hospital, these doctors and this treatment was, hopefully, my life saviour and had given me the future I so desperately wanted to cling to. Who knows what was happening inside of me, but I prayed for it to do whatever it had to do to keep me on this planet for as long as possible. That wasn’t too much to ask was it? I left Massachusetts General Hospital for the last time on 26 March 2009. A little exhausted and very bald, but in pretty good health, considering. Before I left to come home, there were only a few things left to do. I wanted to say a big thank you to all the doctors, proton team therapists and reception staff who had been so wonderful throughout my stay and deserved to be recognised for all their care, kindness and hard work. I was actually quite sad to leave as I had built up a close relationship with everyone and they made me feel safe and secure. But I wouldn’t let myself cry. I had everything to smile about and I did lots of that! Thank you guys – you literally saved my life.

As soon as my last treatment was under my belt we were back at the apartment to finish off packing up our belongings. We’d been there for over 2 months and it’s surprising what you can accumulate in that time. I am the worst hoarder at the best of times. I still had lots to do and I had already sent things home with other people in the weeks leading up to going home.

Okay, so with the party finally over, now came the serious part again. Treatment number 2. The next week I went to see Dr. Glaser at Charing Cross hospital in Hammersmith. It was really great to see him again and he kept saying how good I was looking. He even brought in another Neurologist to see me. How embarrassing! We spoke about potential chemotherapy as I was in a real panic to start it as soon as possible. I was told by a doctor in Boston that it was a good idea to have follow up chemotherapy after my proton therapy treatment because it would wash away any remaining cancer cells. I was keen to get started as soon as possible. Dr. Glaser could see I was panicking and had to slow me down a little. He was firm and told me that he would not authorise chemotherapy until all the relevant tests had been carried out due to the type of drugs I was about to be given. They were strong and could cause kidney damage so my doctors needed to check that my body could cope with more treatment.

So, having listened to Dr. Glaser (who is only ever concerned about my well being), I was booked in for a radiation test to check my kidney function. I was also booked in to have blood tests, MRI scans and so on. This is always the worst part for me because, at 28 years of age, I’m old enough to have all of these test done on my own, but I hate needles and I always want someone with me. What a baby!

I remember having the usual injection (to put dye into my body to show up my tumours) during the MRI and again it hurt a lot more than normal. I asked the Radiographer why this was and she said it was because I’d had so much treatment that my body was much weaker and a lot more sensitive to pain. Oh great! Once all the tests were completed and the results showed that I was good to go I was keen to start my chemotherapy. I think you could say I was stupidly excited. Anything to harm my tumours was a good thing for me and I was ready to fight some more!

I was told that I would have 2 chemotherapy drugs. One was called Cisplatin and the other one was called Etoposide. I was also informed that I would need to be given lots of saline fluid to flush out of my kidneys and to ensure that the chemotherapy drugs did not damage them.

So I arrived at the chemotherapy ‘day ward’ at Charing Cross hospital on Monday 27 April 2009. By now the excitement had been replaced by fear and to say I was scared was an understatement. I had a blood test at the beginning. This was so the doctors could keep an eye on my white blood cells as these can drop dramatically during treatment. During these tests, I waited patiently for my drugs to come up from the pharmacy department. It took a few hours for them to arrive and I was finally told that it would make more sense if I was admitted to hospital for the 4 days I was on chemotherapy. This was because the chemo would take 8 hours to administer and the day clinic wouldn’t be open for long enough. To be quite honest, I was happy with this decision as having 8 hours of treatment and then travelling home and back to start again the next morning at 8am would have been mega tiring.

With each cycle of chemotherapy, the side effects and symptoms remained consistent, although it got tougher and tougher as I had more treatments. The side effects began a lot quicker after each cycle and they were much stronger. It’s hard to explain the feeling I had during chemotherapy and sometimes when I was asked how I felt I would say ‘I’ve got the chemo feeling’. Honestly though, I think I got off very lightly! I was on lots of drugs to minimise side effects and the anti-sickness tablets were great. I did have nausea, but I was never sick which was fantastic. As long as I wasn’t in bed being sick, then I could cope. My motto was ‘It could get worse’ so I didn’t dare complain in case it did.

I generally felt quite awful for the first 8 days after chemotherapy and then gradually I would start to feel better until I started treatment again. The cycle would simply rotate round like that. The first week I would stay at home and take it easy. Then I would try and get out at least once a day, even if it was for a drink at the local garden centre. Cor, I sound really old now - but this was what my life had become. After I picked up a little I would have a few friends over or go to visit them at their house. I was told to avoid busy and confined places like shopping centres, trains and bars (ouch!) as my immune system was very low and there was a possibility that I could pick up an infection. But I didn’t want to isolate myself for 4 months so luckily for me, it was summer and I could sit outside a café or bar and be waited on by my family and friends – perfect if you ask me!

During my chemotherapy I kept a diary and I tried to write in it everyday throughout the 4 months. I wanted to do this so that I could show other people who may one day have similar treatment. I also wanted to record the side effects that I was experiencing, so I could inform my doctors, as they wanted to monitor me. My memory was (and still is) so awful that I have to write everything down!  I had also been told that the side effects of chemotherapy could last for over a year after the treatment had finished so I wanted to be sure that I didn’t panic 6 months down the line. My side effects during chemotherapy varied from feeling very tired with absolutely no energy, chest pains (especially when I breathed) and strong heartburn sensation throughout my torso. It’s very hard to explain, but I just felt very raw, but also as though my chest was flooded with fluid. I also experienced a very sore throat. My teeth hurt and my glands would flare up. I also had tinnitus, neck and backache, constipation, a weakened voice and night sweats. Steroids made me quite bloated and hungry, which was a good thing, as I didn’t have much of an appetite due to feeling so unwell from the drugs.

I’m sticking with two days a week for a while. Hopefully I’ll be able to up to 3 days per week, but my school (as always) are being fantastic and are completely flexible in terms of my phased return to work. They are very conscious that my health is first and foremost, which I really appreciate. It can be frustrating at times as I thought (naively) that I would be back working full time in 2010. Although, as lots of people have told me, I had nearly 7 months of intensive treatment and it’s probably going to take that amount of time to feel better again. It’s so easy to want to run before you can walk, but I’d much rather take it slowly and do well than do things too quickly and have to take a step back. That would be admitting defeat and I’m not very good at doing that!

During my chemotherapy treatment, I had a MRI scan in June 2009 to see if the proton therapy or chemotherapy had worked. I had to wait 3 months after I had returned from Boston because this is how long it takes for the proton to start showing its results. As you can imagine, this was a very nerve wracking time for me, James and my family. And it was horrid waiting for the results because my backache hadn’t really disappeared and I was also getting head pains. Was it the side effects of chemotherapy? Was it worry? Or was it my dreaded tumours? I had no idea and was worried sick. I just hoped and prayed that my tumours were dead, that they had disappeared. At the very least I hoped and prayed that my tumours were asleep.

In the meeting with Dr. Glaser, he told me that my tumours appeared to be stable and that there was no sign of disease progression. Of course that was brilliant news, but secretly, deep down, I had hoped that I might be different and do better than anticipated. Having said that, the fact that my tumours hadn’t grown was fantastic. I was only too aware that the results could have been devastating and I could have been looking for more alternative treatments to stop a re-growth. How could I be anything less than happy? The treatment had done its job and they could stay asleep forever as far as I was concerned.

I was given an appointment to receive my results about 1 week after having my scan. I thought this was a little strange as I normally had to wait up to 3 weeks, but I thought Dr. Glaser had worked his magic and got me a quick appointment. Obviously, another part of me worried that it was something more sinister, but I was determined not to jump to any conclusions.

So, on Tuesday 8 September 2009, me, James, Mum, Dad and Trina waited in the dreaded radiotherapy clinic at Charing Cross hospital. Dr. Glaser came out to us in the waiting room and called us in. He doesn’t normally do that, so that was different already. I had barely walked through the consultation room door when he blurted out the news. At this point the rest of my family were still walking in and it was a lot to take in. My tumours had ‘dramatically reduced’ in both areas. OH MY GOODNESS. The first thing I said was ‘are you serious?’ Never in my wildest dreams had I expected to hear that news. I was right, someone had been looking after me all this time like I truly believed and all those thousands of prayers from everyone had worked. THANK YOU. THANK YOU. THANK YOU.

We all sat down a little stunned as we were shown my MRI pictures by Dr. Glaser. We couldn’t make out what we were looking at, but we were advised that although some residual disease remained in the brain and spine, the bulk of the tumours had dramatically reduced. That was the best feeling in the world. I have never seen my scans looking so clear. I felt like I was walking on cloud 9, but at the same time I didn’t want to believe it in case something went wrong. All I could hear behind me was my poor Mum saying ‘Are they Melissa’s scans?’, ‘Can you see her name?’ ‘Are you sure?’ Bless her! She was totally frantic that they may have been someone else’s. It is actually a real shame that when you are faced with such great news there is still a little flicker inside that tells you to be wary and prepare yourself that it might not be real.

I definitely shed a little tear that day and I have never seen my family smile so much, but again it didn’t sink in (and it still hasn’t to this day!).  I’m too frightened of believing too much in case next time it’s changed. That’s the thing with cancer. As much as you’re desperate to be free from it forever, it never really lets go and you have to learn to live with the reality of it coming back. At that moment though, we were all up in the clouds and no one was bringing us down! We deserved to enjoy this piece of news for as long as we could. It had been such a long, hard, emotional fight to get here and we wanted to savour every moment. I don’t remember much of that meeting with Dr. Glaser, but I know he said to me ‘I knew you’d do better than they expected’. What a lovely thing to say and that is why I love him so much. He is so positive and really believes in his patients. More importantly he believes in me and I have a great relationship with him. I respect every decision he makes and he truly is one of the kindest people I have ever met. Like I have said before, everything happens for a reason. I feel lucky to have met him. Let alone be treated by him as my doctor. He is such a remarkable and marvellous man.

And on a lighter note, guess where we all headed to afterwards (apart from the chapel)? Yep, you guessed it. We headed to the local pub for a celebratory drink or 2 or 3! 

I have since been scanned in January 2010 and each time we send a copy of my scans out to Boston for my doctors there to review. Dr Shih came back with the same conclusion as Dr Glaser and agreed that my tumours remain stable. They have not shrunk anymore, but they have not enlarged either – so that is really great news. They also said that ‘I was unique’, which I will take as compliment! Hehe.

Wow, it’s still hard to believe, but gradually the news was sinking in. For the first time in a long while I felt a sense of calm and I can’t begin to tell you how good that felt. I am in a far better place than I ever thought possible and almost a year after my re-diagnosis, I can barely believe how things have changed. In situations like this I always think of the song written by the boy band, Blue. They sing about how life can flip 180 degrees in a matter of days. And that is so true. How my life has flipped since 30 October 2008. And how it flipped again on 8 September 2009. I will never take that for granted.

Nearly 3 months on and I still get some symptoms, like the odd chest pain and general run down feelings. The main one is tiredness and I have to take it easy. I am doing much more than I used to and I am building up my days, but the odd nap here and there never hurt anyone! I’ve also been left with a few new side effects from the chemotherapy, such as double vision. The doctors have said that this is because my optic nerves have been damaged and my muscles have been weakened due to all the intensive treatment I have sustained to my head. My double vision doesn’t happen constantly and only lasts for a few minutes. It occurs if I am concentrating, stressed or tired. It looks funny as my right eye goes droopy and I can’t control my eyeball! It does make people laugh though! Haha. Also, my potassium levels are low and consequently my toes ache and feel numb. As long as none of my side effects are neurological, then I am happy. Dr. Glaser has told me that he is going to keep an ‘eye’ (Haha – sorry, couldn’t resist another pun!) on it all and I may have to see an ophthalmologist at some point.

As for the future? – well, that is a tricky question. I am incredibly happy and for the first time, I can move on and start living again. I will be having another scan in 4 months time and as long as the results remain positive, I will be scanned every 6 months after that. So fingers crossed that this will be the last update you read from me. I owe my life to proton therapy treatment and to all you wonderful people that helped me fight this terrible disease. I am a survivor and I am so proud! Proud of my family, proud of James, proud of the people who helped, proud of the doctors who treated me, proud of the faith we all had …and I suppose, I am proud of me!

As far as I am aware, any further radiotherapy is out of the question as I received the maximum dose my body can tolerate. So if my tumours come back and start to re-grow again, we would need to look at alternative treatment. I guess we will worry about that if the time ever comes!

For now, I am enjoying being me again and life is good. I’m back to work and I’m looking forward to getting married. Life couldn’t be simpler and I couldn’t be happier. No one knows what their destiny is and that’s what keeps me going. I will never dwell on what I’ve been through as so many other people have had misfortune and the end may not have been so positive for them. I think that I am very lucky, but I will never forget the past 4 years. They have moulded me into the person I am today - hopefully for the better! I will never take my life or anyone else’s for granted and I guess you could say I’m easily pleased. See, every cloud had a silver lining!

So what else have I been up to? We went on a family holiday to Florida in October 2009 which my Dad bid for at my Fighting Fund Auction last year. It was a perfect holiday and a fantastic opportunity to get away and enjoy being a family together. As you can imagine, we had lots of fun and, looking back, it was a special moment to be enjoying myself in Disney one year on from the day that I had been re-diagnosed. I loved every second of it and would like to thank everyone for making it the best holiday ever.

My time has also been spent trying to raise awareness for brain tumours in general. Something I promised to do. I went back on GMTV in October 2009 where they genuinely surprised me with a visit from Ruby. She was brought out onto the sofa and it was so lovely to see her. I was nearly in tears again on live TV! I have also been on Channel 5 news promoting proton therapy and we did an article for The Sun newspaper that was published in January 2010. An up to date article in the Real People magazine was also published in December 2009, so I have been keeping busy. These have all been fantastic opportunities for me to keep proton therapy in the public eye and to raise awareness about brain tumours, which is what I set out to do.

We have also helped a number of people with brain tumours, which I am very proud of. We have made direct donations to other charities that need our help and we have given away some of the raffle prizes that were left over from my auction in December 2008. I think to date we have donated over £8,000. A small amount in comparison to what I was given, but I don’t intend on stopping. For as long as people are interested in my story I will raise awareness. When things have quietened down I will keep on going, badgering people until they help to raise more funds so we can give to individuals, charities or hospitals. Wish me luck!

Like I said at the beginning of this update (if you can remember that far back - I am sorry it has taken me so long) to write my blog. I have spent at least one day a week on it since February 2009. Some weeks were better than others, but believe it or not, the proton therapy and chemotherapy tired me out more that my actual brain operations! I have had to take it a lot easier than I thought. Sleep and feeling tired is now a massive part of my life and it’s like a light switch. Once it’s flicked off I have to sleep. So thank you for your patience and thank you for taking the time to read the latest update on me.

So, to all of you who donated, fundraised, wrote me letters, sent me cards - what can I say? There are no words that are big enough. All I have to give is a very deep and heartfelt THANK YOU to each and every one of you. I have sent thousands of thank you cards to people and I am still doing more now. I promised I would thank each person for their selfless gesture. I will keep that promise. I can’t guarantee when you will receive your thank you cards, but I promise they will land on your mat one day. I still have 4 full folders to complete, but whether you receive yours in 2 months or 2 years please know that it comes attached with the biggest gratitude and the biggest smile for what you have done for me. And for those people that got in contact, but did not supply an address, I want you to know that I did receive them and that I am truly grateful.

So before I end my epic update, there are a few personal thank you’s that I would like to say…

To St Ignatius School: What a sense of community! I definitely couldn’t be in a better job. From the day I was re-diagnosed to today, I have been offered unbelievable support from my headmistress, colleagues, pupils and parents. You always made sure I knew that my health was more important, but you also kept me fully involved with school life. This was the best thing ever and what I wanted. It was great to keep my mind off things and I loved keeping in touch with you all whilst I was in Boston and having chemotherapy. Your fundraising efforts have been absolutely remarkable and I am humbled at your kindness towards me. I will be forever grateful for all the money you raised. I am so lucky to know that I am surrounded by such wonderful people.

To Dr. Glaser: I have the upmost respect for you. Every step of the way you have amazed me with your knowledge and empathy, yet you have never failed to make me smile and laugh at myself. I am eternally grateful for everything you have done for me and continue to do for me. Thank you so much for the faith that you continue to have in me and for you continual positivity. I couldn’t do it without you. You are my guardian angel who undoubtedly helped save my life! Thank you.

To all of my friends (too many to mention!): Thank you. The friendship and loyalty you have offered me has been remarkable. Each and every one of you went out of your way to help and make a difference. I am so lucky to know you all and have you in my life. I will never forget what you have done for me. You are the best buddies ever and I love ya!

To James: Do I stay or do I go? A question I am sure you have asked yourself on many occasions, but I know your answer. You stayed. I know that you will always be there. You are my tower of strength. The one who is with me day and night, rain or shine. From the day of my re-diagnosis we struggled to comprehend what the future may hold for us and we both struggled to share our fears, but we have overcome this journey together and we are stronger than ever before. I remember when I was told that I would need radiotherapy and that I would have to wear a hat or a mask over my head and face. So what did you do? Yes. I would find you in the kitchen every morning walking around with a sieve on your head like it was the most natural thing in the world. We would both laugh and then you would make me wear it and you would say ‘You’ve got to laugh at yourself, Liss’. That has been our motto the whole way through. Laughter. It has been the best medicine. You are the one who comforts me on the days when I cry myself to sleep. You have been so patient and calm when I know it has been so tough for you. But at the same time, you push me to my limits and keep the lively Melissa alive. You are the one that gets told off for interrupting me when I am saying my prayers or talking to my angels. Without you (and my family) we all know that 2010 might have been a very different story. I love you.

To my family: This is the hardest part. I am lost for words. At last you all cheer!  I will never be able to signify what you have done for me. The sacrifices you have made. The love, strength, fight, positivity, patience, prayers, laughter and tears we have all shared together. You are the reason I coped so well. You are the reason I kept smiling. You are the reason I am fighting this. You are the reason that I am a survivor. None of it is down to me. I want you all to take the credit because you deserve it so much. You are my inspiration. Even though ‘I am tough for a shortie’ this would have never been possible without you by my side. I’ve said it before and I will say it again, I am sorry for all that I have put you through, but a promise is a promise - and I will get better and stay better for you. I love you more than you will ever know and I am so happy to be a Huggins (even if it will only be for another 4 months!)  Thank you forever.

With lots of love

Lissa.

xxx

*** Katrina would like to apologise for the late posting of this update to Melissa’s Fighting Fund website. ***

Update Posted March 2010

Update Posted February 2009